You Were Written, Among Stars
by little.acatalepsy
Summary: "Death found herself addicted to the words. His word." The Merchant of Death reflects in the aftermath. Post-IW, Pre-EG.


**Hello Everyone!**

 **I'm still alive, I'm still writing and working on my other stories (sorry about the length of time between updates...I swear I work on them...). But for now enjoy this deep little ditty about introspective things.**

 **This takes place immediately after IW. It can be viewed as a stand-alone or a prequel for other post-IW stories I've written. Okay, you're right, there is only one, but I may have another in the works ;)**

 **-Cat**

 **Warnings: Angst. Language. That's all.**

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At first, it was like flying backwards.

It was like the moment Death first wrote his name. Her handwriting looked like the logo he'd inherited from a father he barely knew. She loved irony, Death. The smooth metal cylinder was his, the carefully calibrated mechanics were his, the explosion was _his_. But he was hers. Her Merchant, her dealer of endings.

And he flew backwards. Death inscribed each tiny piece of shrapnel. His mouth filled with blood, then bursts of voltage and dirty water. But when he escaped, Death found herself addicted to the words. His word. At least, that's what he told himself with bitter whiskey laiden breath.

(" _Don't waste your life."_ )

She loved to write his name, only to have him snatched away. There was a thrill and agony in loss.

She signed the atoms of palladium, the neutrons ramming into his fragile composite of elements. The nuclear missile in New York, the weapons that tore apart his home, the hands of the people he'd screwed over, they all bore his name. Every star that haunted his dreams spoke the truth. Death loved that she was always on his thoughts.

He did not realize that not dying was torture until he saw his own survival.

(" _You could have saved us.")_

Death was mocking him. Her addiction was not enough. He had to feel it too.

She wrote Tony's name on every scrap of life she could find and dangled it out of reach. She wrote it on the most precious of items. His own creations. His father's creations. (" _That shield doesn't belong to you.")_

Then Death got bored of Tony's name and started writing the wrong ones.

" _Mr. Stark? I don't feel so good…"_

Death's merchant had been too liberal with his gifts. So Death mocked him with survival. How the mighty fall.

 _Ashes, ashes._

When had he ended up on his knees?

 _We all fall down._

There were ashes mixing with the blood on his hands.

" _Sorry."_

Why would he say that? What could he possibly be sorry for?

"Stark."

A voice, edges like metal, reminded him that his soul was still in his body. There was blood in his mouth again. The momentum had not stopped. He was still flying backwards.

"Stark is your name, right?"

Tony jerked his head, sending a shock of pain shuddering down his spinal cord into every region of his body. _You know me, you know me, you know me-_

"Yes," he rasped hoarsely. "You should know."

"Why would I know you?" asked the metal voice, exhausted by derision. Tony realized that it was not Death speaking, but some other entity. He did not have the energy to explain his mistake, so he stayed where he was, contemplating the ash on his hands.

"Get up," said the blue alien abruptly. "We need to leave."

He barely heard her, but he felt her cold, hard hands clasp around his arm and heave him upwards. A sound escaped his mouth. _Fuck, that hurt_. The blue alien ignored him, hauling him over the rough, battle-scarred surface of Titan. Tony's vision grayed out, blurring the planet to indistinct fog. He mechanically struggled to get his feet under him, but it was useless. Then he felt like he was going blind. Darkness flooded the fog, disorientating.

He was dropped, but instead of rocks, he felt a perforated metal floor. They were in a ship then. And suddenly he was flooded with panic.

"Wait." It came out as a whisper. He coughed. "Wait! No, we can't-we can't leave-"

"They're dead," the alien said dispassionately. She was fiddling with a board of controls, flipping switches, frowning at a flashing red light. "You can't save them, Stark."

"I can" died his his throat. What could he do? "I don't want to leave them," he said, knowing how irrational it sounded.

"Then you'll die with them," she replied harshly. Tony was surprised by her anger. It smoldered in the voids of her eyes and crackled through her circuits. Suddenly she was standing right in front of him, hauling him to one of the chairs and strapping him in.

"Why does it matter?" He couldn't stop her, so he gave in. There was a sputtering roar and the ship was staggering to life. She ignored him. So he tried a different question. "What is your name?"

She paused at the controls.

"Nebula."

Tony wanted to warn her then that Death knew her name. But he had a feeling she already knew. So he allowed to the black at the edges of his vision to thicken. The jolting take-off shook the nanites in his wound and he felt it start to bleed again. As he bled into the stars that were rushing towards them as the atmosphere of Titan rushed away.

The Benetar floated through space for months.

Tony started to believe that Death had saved his name for starvation. For carbon dioxide. He went even further back. He thought more and more of the cave in Afghanistan. The present began to fade away. Nebula started phasing between herself and Yinsen. Both concerned. Both whispering, "Don't waste this. You shouldn't be alive, unless it was for a reason. There was no other way."

That's when Tony decided to record a message.

Just in case.

Rescue came, against all odds. He left the stars behind for a second time. But even as he slipped into unconsciousness, he saw them wheel above him, a million staring eyes. He'd be back. He knew now that he was written there. He felt it in his bones. And next time, he would finally be Hers.

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 **A/N: Reviews make me happy! Hope this wasn't too OOC, but I get the feeling that Tony's snark-levels might have taken a hit. Though I'm sure he'll recover them...**


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